


Dog Days of Summer

by CarnalCoffeeBean



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Everyone loves libraries!, F/M, Library AU, M/M, Slow Build, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-11-09
Packaged: 2017-11-17 08:08:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarnalCoffeeBean/pseuds/CarnalCoffeeBean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beacon Hills, as it turns out, is actually boring as hell.<br/>Or, the one in which summer is boring, Derek accidentally becomes a library volunteer, Lydia and Erica get shit done, Stiles researches werewolves, and multiple people trip, stumble, and fall flat on their faces on their way towards something resembling love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Having Fun Isn't Hard (When You've Got a Library Card)

Beacon Hills, as it turns out, is actually boring as hell.

It's a fact easily forgotten in the first few months since Derek's return. The Argents and the giant snake-people and a whole new set of Argents that luckily didn't burn down his house again (probably since there wasn't much to burn) but did bring about a whole new exciting set of circumstances have done a fine job of keeping him busily terrified for his life.

Things slow down at the beginning of the summer, though, and as the summer passes, the season continues on its initial implied trajectory towards a ridiculous amount of boredom. Peter slinks off, presumably to do his own thing, and Derek doesn't question his good fortune. He knows enough not to look a gift horse in the mouth (although it won't do him any good in the long run, as the gift horse will invariably kick him in the balls at some point further down the road. It's just the way his life works). It is nice to have a break from Peter's lurking in shadows and popping up in unexpected places, for however long it lasts. Isaac spends more time over at Scott's than he does at Derek's, claiming that they're training together and reminding Derek that bonding time is important. (Derek does not linger on the irony of the fact that, as Isaac's alpha, bonding time would better be spent with him than with Scott. He does not need some teenager hanging around all day.) Erica catches up with her family, and so does Boyd; when he does come around, he smells like apple juice, sun-warmed grass, and happiness. Boyd smiles a lot when it's summer, white teeth flashing in his dark-set face, and it's hard not to think about the summer before the fire, when Derek was relegated babysitter to Peter's three adorable kids, one werewolf, two human. Flashes of memories catch in his brain, sometimes, when he smells Boyd these days: watching endless Disney movies with the runts sprawled all over him; running around in the sprinklers; making snow cones and then cleaning up from said snow cones. They'd spend hours playing "Princess and Monsters"; he'd be cast as the mean, fierce, scary dragon, guarding the makeshift pillow fort against stick-wielding toddlers while a tiara-donned princess giggled from within. They wrestled, too, all of them against him; he'd roll them around on the floor a little, playfully growling, nipping, grabbing at heels and trapping wriggling, laughing bodies under him as they protested, "Lemme out, Uncle Derek, you're squashing us!" He'd press his face into their necks, sniffing them, smiling. They smelled like hardwood floors and spilled mac-and-cheese and clean, soft hair; like happiness and home.

It's no wonder, then, that the silence screams louder when Boyd leaves and takes his smile with him.

He ends up at the library because Beacon Hills has nothing going on (besides some Save the Wildcats organization and a knitting club, yes, he checked the bulletin boards outside the county office, and no, they have not changed in over a week. Those are the only two events in Beacon Hills for the entire summer.). A bell chimes when he walks in, and a worker looks up from the large desk taking up most of the front. He nods at her and walks over to the stacks, weaving in between them, meandering towards the back. It's not a large library, but it's decent for Beacon Hills' size, and it takes Derek a few minutes to reach the desks at the other end of the building. The books on this end don't offer much in the way of distraction, but he'll take what he can get. He runs his hands over the spines, feels the catch of cloth against his fingertips. A cover catches his eye. He pulls it off the shelf, settles himself against the bookshelf, and starts to read. It's better than he expected; the light's changed when he next looks up, glaring midday sun softened into the quiet, hazy beams of late afternoon light through fudged-up windows. A worker bustles through a few aisles over, replacing books, humming to herself. He can hear the Top 40's song in her earbuds, but other than that, the lazy quiet remains undisturbed. It's... peaceful. The library's calm pervades him, shoves through his skin and into his mind; given the last few weeks, though, it's a welcome intrusion. He smiles, bends his head once more, and continues to read.


	2. Chapter 2

A few weeks later, his days have settled more or less into a pattern. He wakes up, trains for a bit, showers, eats, and heads over to the library. He stays in the cool, dark stacks until the one of the librarians kick him out at the end of the day. He thinks the older librarian feels sorry for him, not having anything to do but hang out in the library; she's asked him to join the knitting club at least four times. The younger one's new in town, fresh-faced and personable. She asks about his family; he tries not to tense too much at the question and says they're fine. There's not too much foot-traffic in the library besides him. The other patrons keep their distance as he turns the pages of his latest find, his legs stretched into the middle of the aisle. They'll come back to the section later, when he's not around, if they need a particular book from that aisle. (He knows because the younger librarian scolds him about it; "You kept poor Mr. So-and-So waiting yesterday, with your feet all in the aisle! We do have chairs!" In response, he nods at her. The next day, he pulls a book off the shelf, walks over where he had been sitting yesterday, and sits cross-legged in the exact middle of the aisle. A few hours later, the younger librarian turns the corner, sees him, and sighs before walking away.) 

Lydia's here, too, sometimes, and Erica, which is a surprise. They both wear badges that read, "BEACON HILLS LIBRARY VOLUNTEER!" in bolded caps. At times, he'll see one or both of them doing odd jobs around the building, manning the reference station, or helping sticky-handed kids check out books on dinosaurs. Erica sneaks in some days, badge missing, and lingers in the classical literature section. She never checks anything out, but every so often she pulls a book or two off the shelf, runs her finger down the spine, and puts it back, looking wistful. (He doesn't ask; he's not curious. He does wonder sometimes, though, why she doesn't just check the books out.) Derek manages to avoid them and the other patrons with a modicum of effort. 

It's pleasant; more than pleasant, even. The library's collection of books isn't awful, and they've got a borrowing system with the rest of the county that gives him access to almost any book he could want. He spends his afternoons reading and quietly snacking on whatever he managed to sneak in his jacket that day.

As with all good things, though, it's not long until calamity occurs, this time in the form of Lydia Martin. He's sitting in the aisle, reading, as usual (this time, a book on auto-mechanics; the Camaro's been making strange, putter-y noises, and Laura was the one who knew how to keep her baby running), when a trolley cart bumps into his bare ankle. He slowly tilts his head up, arching an eyebrow, and encounters vibrant ginger hair, green eyes, and a pissed-off expression.  
"You know, that's really gross."  
"What?"  
"Your feet. They're bare."  
He looks at them. They are, in fact, bare.  
"Yes."  
"You do know how many people walk around in here?"  
He mulls the question over. In the past three weeks, there's probably been an average of ten people a week inside the library besides him and the librarian staff. But that's an average, not an exact number, so.  
"No."  
She sighs. "Put your shoes on." It's the same tone his mother used with him when he got smart, but then, Lydia Martin is not his mother. He doesn't have to listen to her.  
He toes the shoes on anyways, not looking in her direction.  
"Now you won't get tetanus."  
He refrains from reminding her that tetanus isn't really a problem; one of the many benefits of lycanthropy is an increased autoimmune system, which negates almost any chance of infection.  
She's holding out something to him. He looks at it. It's a pin, with BEACON HILLS LIBRARY VOLUNTEER! printed in bold caps next to a big, yellow, smiling sun. In sunglasses.  
Lydia sighs. "You're here every day already, you might as well do something."  
"I am doing something." He waves his book.  
She snorts. "Something other than reading."  
He turns back to his book.  
"It's not that strenuous of a job. Just checking out people every now and then, manning the reference station, putting books back on the shelf."  
"So why don't you do it?"  
"I am." She points to her chest. The smiling sun of the volunteer badge stares back at him. "It's less work if there's more people than just me and Erica."  
He holds his book back up to his face. "I'm reading." It's as clear an order to go away as he can get without hanging a "Do Not Disturb" sign on his wrist. (He used to do that when Laura was really bugging him. She'd laughed and then left him alone for a few hours. He wonders sometime if it'd work on the pups.)  
"Fine. Have it your way." She drops the laminated pin in his lap when she leaves. The sunglassed-sun smiles up at him.  
It's already got his name on it.

Derek drops the pin by the front desk when he leaves. The younger librarian looks delighted.  
"Oh, so you are volunteering, then! And Lydia said you wouldn't. We have great learning programs to get you up to speed as to how the library system works, although what with how much time you've been spending here, you probably know the system better than me!" She laughs.  
"I'm- not volunteering." He stands there and watches as the librarian's face falls, then recomposes itself with alarming speed.  
"You made a volunteer pin, though." He waits, but that is, apparently, the extent of her argument. He turns to go.  
"So I'll expect you here at noon tomorrow, then, to get started on your training!" she yells at his back.

He's at the library at noon. The younger librarian beams as she pins the volunteer pin on his shirt.

Three hours later, he's watched a few videos, gotten a grand tour of the library from the older librarian (who is not as overtly enthused as the younger librarian at his decision to volunteer, but does ask him again whether he wouldn't like to join the knitting club), and has learned to use the cutting tools at the back in a proficient enough manner to cut off the smiling sun and the extraneous exclamation point off his badge. As a result, the laminated edges of his badge are already peeling back, and it now reads,

BEACON HILLS VOLUNTEER  


     DER   


Lydia laughs when she sees it.  
"We have white-out." He looks at her badge, and sure enough, the exclamation point is carefully marked out. The sun smiles out from the opposite side of her badge, blissfully unaware of its close shave with death.  
He rolls his eyes and asks where the empty trolley is. She points him in the direction of the back shelves.

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't kidding about the slow build-up, people. Stiles isn't even in the first two chapters. (Luckily for y'all, the first two chapters are about 2.4k combined.) Um. Hope you enjoyed? (I know I enjoyed Derek's pov.) Hugs for all readers, and questions, comments, and constructive criticism are met with probably more enthusiasm/love than was wanted by the questioner/commenter/criticizer. (I will behave like an adult one day. Today is not that day.)


End file.
